Old Wounds
by jibbsloversunited
Summary: Jenny notices something about the Jethro. From the collection of elflordsmistress.
1. Observing

**Author's note:**

Officially the last of the _survivors._

Comprises three or four rather short chapters - so it will not be a long read.

* * *

><p>She'd kept an eye on him all day.<p>

Silently.

Mostly from afar, but not always.

If the team had realized that she'd come down into the bullpen when she wanted to talk to him, as opposed to calling him up into her office, they'd pretended not to notice.

There was certainly a unsure aura to the team dynamic though. And saying that they were walking on eggshells around him was in no way an exaggeration. They hadn't caught any new cases, and she was pretty sure he was grateful to be desk-bound for the day.

She looked at him on her way into MTAC in the later afternoon, and saw him grimace and reach under the desk; his eyes closing for a fraction of a second. He looked up unexpectedly and caught her looking at him. Jen felt her eyes soften instinctively as their eyes met, and from the look in _his_ she knew he knew she knew. He nodded fractionally – an admission all its own – and then turned back to his computer.

By the time Jen came out of her long briefing with SecNav, the bullpen was empty save for Gibbs – who was still poring over paperwork.

"On a scale from one to ten?" she asked gently when she stopped by his desk on her way home.

He raised his eyes from his paperwork.

"A four. Six. Point five," he modified as she gave him a disbelieving look.

"Which means it's probably an eight. Come on, Jethro, I'll walk you to your car," she said. Wanting to gauge for herself whether he was going to be able to drive home.

"I'll be fine" he mumbled.

Jen suppressed a yawn. "What are you planning to do? Stay here all night?"

"Done it before."

"Well you're not doing it tonight," she said, in a tone that told him she meant business. "Come on. There's nobody left to watch you hobble out of here."

She chose not to offer him any support as they walked together because she knew he'd hate that. As they travelled down to the garage she watched him lean against the railing, and observed as he favoured his right leg on the walk to the cars. Pretty sure that that six point five he'd been on about was more likely to be a eight point five. Maybe even a nine."

"Get in," she said, as her driver saw her coming and opened up the car door for her. "It's not a request, Jethro."


	2. Camaraderie

Gibbs rested his head against the back seat and winced slightly as they drove along the Anacostia River in silence, and after a while Jen slipped her hand into his and squeezed.

"I'm fine, Jen."

"Not a chance," she said, looking out of the window at the rain that hadn't stopped falling since morning. "Not with humidity at this level."

He cracked his eyes open and saw where they were.

"This isn't the way home."

"Depends on who's home you thought we were going to," she said with a small smile.

"You taking me home to have your wicked way with me?" he asked with a pained grin as he looked pointedly at the back of her driver's head and tried to waggle his eyebrows.

"In your dreams, Jethro," she said. Elbowing him to keep his voice down.

He mumbled something she didn't quite understand as his eyes drifted closed again, and instinctively she leaned close to him.

There was a slight tremor in the air as he took a whiff of her perfume.

The action took her a little by surprise, and she wondered suddenly whether this was a good idea after all. The tension between them had been building exponentially since the Carson case, and she was almost sure it wouldn't take much to tip the balance. Making this kind of proximity dangerous.

On the other hand, she knew how badly the shrapnel scarring courtesy of _Desert Storm_ hurt on occasion. Had held him for hours when they were still partners. Sat up with him late into the night and sometimes into the early morning – using her own brand of distraction to make him forget and move past the pain.

Leaving him alone with this once she had picked up on it was not an option, she decided.

Good idea or not.

She leaned closer to him, however.

"Don't get any ideas, Jethro. We're talking bath, food, and bourbon here. And not necessarily in that order."

But they both knew she was lying.

An hour later or so later she was pulling the food Noemi had left from the oven when she felt him behind her.

"Did the soak help?" she asked as she took the drink he was holding out to her; comfortable with the fact that he had made himself at home.

"Meh. I'm stiff all over from just sitting all day," he said with a shrug as he sent some of the liquid down his throat.

"Stiff all over, huh?" she teased – trying not to let her eyes drift down to the towel around his waist.

"Got any arsic stuff?"

"_What?_"She looked at him in confusion for a second, and then smiled. "Do you mean _arnica_?"

"I guess. Whatever you used in Tábor."

"Why? Need me to rub he stiffness out of you?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.

"Yup." He was enjoying the lead up to the inevitable just as much as she was, and sking for a massage was as good a push as any, he'd decided in the bath.

"I'll look for the oil," she said, pulling a chicken wing from the dish and eating it as she walked away.

Trying hard not be suggestive, but knowing it was likely the only sustenance she'd be getting all evening.

When she arrived upstairs a few moments later the guest room was empty.

"Jethro?" she called.

"In here."

"I wasn't planning on sharing my bed with you," she said as she followed his voice all the way to her bedroom.

"It's wider," he pointed out.

"Uh-huh" she said, as she sat on the edge of the bed looking at him.

"And you have more pillows," he added as he hugged one of them to him, and flipped over slowly onto his stomach. "Find it?"

"Yes. Where do you want it?" she asked gently, as she rubbed some oil between her palms.

"Full body?"

She felt the pain in his voice tug at her heartstrings.

"_If _you think you can restrain yourself," she teased. Spreading his legs a little and kneeling between them.

"I can if _you_ can" he shot back. Sinking his head a little deeper into the pillow as he felt her hands on him.

Jen massaged his scalp gently, using thumbs and fingers in circular motion. Putting gentle pressure on his temples with her finger tips. Rubbing the back of his ears in a way that elicited the first appreciative groan. As she moved down to his neck and shoulders, gently and methodically soothing the tight muscles she found there with her touch, she leaned over him.

"Is it warm enough for you?"

"Getting there."

When she was sure she'd worked most of the tension from the top of his shoulders she moved on to his back; knowing just where to find the tense knots and using her knuckles to ease them. She traced the sides of his spinal column gently; testing just how tight the outlying muscles were before applying gentle pressure. She slid backwards a bit and slid the sheet off his back, her breath catching for a moment.

"Jen?"

"It's fine, Jethro. I just wasn't expecting to be mooned," she said with half a laugh.

"Nothing you haven't seen before," he said. And she knew he was grinning.

"No need to sound so smug," she retorted.

But she was smiling too. Because the memories were good ones. And anyway, this is where it got good.

Because for all his bravado this man was ticklish.

"Jen ..." he drawled, his hand snaking round and grabbing her wrist as soon as she started to draw patterns on his buttocks with her fingernails. "Don't even think about it."

"Spoilsport," she hissed as she moved down to his legs, casting one last longing look at his behind.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong>

The rating is going up a notch in the next chapter.


	3. Revelation

_Focus,_ she told herself.

But she had to admit, her fingers were itching to trace the juncture between buttocks and thighs.

Just to see what he would do.

"I'm going to stay away from it," she said as she started to work on his right thigh, avoiding the scar as she worked her way down to his calf. Kneading away the tension first from one leg and then from the other.

"Turn over," she said.

Gibbs craned his head in her direction. "You object to mooning but not to flashing?" he asked with amusement in his eyes and in his voice.

"Don't flatter yourself, Jethro. As you said ... nothing I haven't seen before."

He caught the look on her face as he turned round and settled on his back. Caught it and smiled; because she was nowhere as immune as she liked to pretend. And if the pebbled nipples under her t-shirt were anything to go by she was enjoying this as much as he was. So he lay back and continued to smile at her.

Because he knew from experience exactly which path her hands would follow.

Jen massaged the bottom of each foot with her thumbs, and pulled gently on each toe as her fingers slid down them. Perfectly aware of what her touch was doing to specific parts of him. From the smile playing across his lips he had no objections, so she leaned her body closer, slid her hands up his legs to his upper thighs, and continued to work her magic there.

Gibbs could feel her breath teasing him - and it was almost enough to drive him to desperation.

"Jen ..." he growled.

She ignored him. Moving her assault to his groin. Massaging around his arousal without touching it. Leaving him straining and trying to find a way to force her to make contact.

"All things come to those who wait, Jethro," she said slowly, as she rubbed a bit more oil into her palms and leaned up a little further to massage his chest. Brushing against him and giving him the contact he wanted. "You know you used to be a lot more patient than this," she observed, as his hands instantly clasped her hips roughly and rocked her gently against him.

"Don't make me rip them off you," he growled as his fingers surged under her t-shirt and tugged at her underwear.

"That a threat or a promise?" she asked against his mouth as they came together in a surge of blistering heat.

Shimmying out of the lace containment and enjoying the silky sensation of his flesh against hers.

"Oh God ..." she murmured, her fingers fisting in his hair as the friction sent her senses into overload.

She would probably have just lain on top of him and ground them both into release if he hadn't flipped her over. She looked up at him with wide eyes for a moment; her back arching off the bed slightly as he sank into her. Gibbs moaned softly in her ear before nuzzling the soft skin right where her shoulder met her neck. Remembering it as being an especially erogenous zone. He watched as the sharp pleasure racing through every nerve in her body manifested itself on her face.

She was possibly the most tactile woman he had ever been with, and he knew that on occasion she loved to be overwhelmed into release. Her soft, breathy moans reached into his soul as he gently caressed her face, her lips, and the transluscent skin over her eyelids as he moved slowly within her no more than a fraction of an inch at a time.

"This is torture," she whispered.

"You love it," he whispered back. Assaulting her neck again in a long sucking bite that made her gasp.

"Are you okay?" she asked, sparing a thought for his leg for a moment. Knowing the strain this must be putting on it.

"Fne," he promised.

And she let herself believe him - because the the intensity of his gaze told her that he was holding nothing back, and the lack of urgency spoke for itself.

"Jethro ..." she murmured after the drawn out, sensuous pleasuring had gone on for a while.

His cue that orgasm was approaching.

He felt her grip his forearms as he picked up the pace. Moving quickly and laying the foundations for his own release. Pinning her down harder. Thrusting faster and infinitely deeper. And finally closing his eyes as they crashed into mutual orgasm.

Sleep came easily after that. And the last thing he remembered was Jen seeking the sanctuary of his embrace before he drifted off.

An hour later he placed a careful kiss to her shoulder and eased out of the warm bed; thinking that something to eat might be in order. He was slipping into his jeans, almost sure he'd gotten away with it when he heard her voice.

"_Jethro ..._"

Her tone alerted him to the fact that he'd been caught.

"Didn't mean to wake you."

"_Do that again,_" she said with a hint of menace in her voice.

"Do what?"

"Take your leg out of your jeans and put it back in."

Gibbs froze.

"_Jethro?_"

He didn't answer.

"That's a lot of mobility for someone who was hobbling around three hours ago. It_ never_ goes away that fast."

He saw realization dawn on her face, and started to back away from the bed.

Slowly.

"You son of a bitch. You set me up. You miser-"

He heard something meet an untimely end against the bedroom door just as he pulled it closed behind him.

Then he bobbed his head with a proud grin, pulled himself up to his full height, and sauntered down the stairs.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong>

And there we have it – an end to the last of the _survivors_.

I have nothing else to repost.

If anyone has a hard copy of **A Few Good Men** please PM me, as I would very much appreciate having it.

I am going to _try_ and pick **_Spooks_** up again (that's the blast-from-the-past AU with a McGee connection).

No promises, but I will try and finish that one off over the course of the next few weeks.

Wish me luck!


End file.
